Fallen Angel
by Nemisor
Summary: While walking in a park, Yami finds a fallen angel under sakura tree.
1. Fallen Angel

_A/N: My second Yu-Gi-Oh! fic, still be nice! ^^ Will be made into a two-shot if someone wants. ( Let me know if you want) Can be read as Darkshipping. _

_ Sakura = cherry._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! + I don't have any money = Don't sue me!_

**Fallen Angel**

It was peaceful Sunday afternoon. Sun was shining, birds were chirping cheerfully and everything seemed quiet. Yami was heading towards a local park. He needed some time to sort out things in his head. A lot of things have been going on lately. Yami got a body. That was of course great, because now he didn't have to posses a body of a 16-year-old anymore. Downside of this was that Bakura and Marik got bodies too. And since they both really hated Yami and wanted, well kill him... Things tend to became a little complicated sometimes.

Park was a perfect place to relax, or sort one's thoughts. It was a quiet place, but beautiful. There was wide lawn for children to play in. Right now, there were few children playing soccer there, sometimes you could hear a laugh or a cheerful shout coming from that direction. Near the lawn was a small pond, inhabited by few ducks and small fishes. Beside the pond were group of sakura trees. It was spring so sakura blossoms were in full bloom, creating an astonishing sight.

Yami walked past the pond and towards the beautiful trees.

Someone was lying under one of the sakura tree. Yami became curious because figure seemed familiar. He walked closer. It was a male with white hair. At first Yami thought it was Ryou lying under that tree, but then he noticed the more mature look of the person. This was Bakura, Ryou's yami, and he was sound sleep.

Yami raised a questioning eyebrow. This was really rare, to see often angry and tense Tomb Robber so peaceful and relaxed, not to mention asleep, for Bakura never slept in the presence of other people, not even in the presence of Ryou, his hikari. After thinking for a while Yami sat next to Bakura crushing few fallen sakura blossoms on the way. Yami pulled his knees close to his chest, rested his chin on his knees and watched the steady breathing of Tomb Robber.

Bakura's normally blazing eyes were closed, chest was rising slowly and pale lips were slightly parted. He was wearing his usual attire, blue and white striped shirt and light blue jeans. The golden Millennium Ring was resting on his chest. Bakura's other hand was buried into the grass and the other rested on his chest, right beside his Ring. His long feather like white hair was sprawled all around, creating a sight almost not from this world.

Sakura blossoms had fallen all around Bakura, on his hair and clothes, creating an illusion of innocence.

His beauty was overwhelming.

While asleep Bakura was angelic, Yami thought, a fallen angel. Wings ripped off and torn to pieces. Fallen angel, no more capable of flying, still wanting to. Fallen angel, betrayed, left alone, abandoned by his own kind, closed in a cage that is life, hating, loathing it. Fallen angel, yearning for freedom.

Around Bakura and in the softness of his features could be seen an aura of sadness and grief. Sadness made him more beautiful, more fragile. Grief made him fair. It could never be seen when he was awake. While awake, the aura was always buried under hatred, disgust and greed, often possessed by thieves.

Now, lying on the bed of sakura blossoms was fair and beautiful creature, rarely shown to anyone.

Yami didn't know how long he just sat there and watched this angel, who was supposedly also his rival, but right now he didn't care. He forgot all his troubles as he watched the slow rising and falling of this sad creature's chest. He watched, as the sakura blossoms fell onto Bakura and onto the ground.

Suddenly Bakura's eyes flew open. Beauty was gone, and so was sadness. Softness of his features hardened and his eyes blazed. Fallen angel was hidden under hatred. Beauty was consumed by disgust. Grief was replaced with greed.

Bakura sat up, causing few sakura blossoms to fall from his hair. Piercing eyes were directed towards Yami.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Pharaoh?" Bakura growled.

"I'm thinking," Yami answered, eyes downcast, just a little disappointed.

Bakura tilted his head in confusion, eyes never leaving Yami.

"What are you thinking?" A question, almost curious one.

"I think you should sleep more often," Yami said truthfully.

Bakura stood up and gave Yami a scornful glare.

"So you could slice my throat?" he snarled, before he turned around and left.

All alone, still sitting under a sakura tree Yami smiled sadly.

'You'd probably be fairest in death, my angel,' he thought.


	2. Fairest in Death

_A/N This chapter was pain in the ass. It took five times of rewriting, lots of cursing and a half-eaten donut to complete this. :D I hope you find this worth of your time. _

_Disclaimer: No I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, I'm very sorry._

**Fairest in Death**

An old and abandoned apartment block was located in the outskirts of the city. Nobody had lived there for years. It was depressingly gray and tall building. Glasses of the first floor were all broken and the doors were kicked in. Doings of the bored kids, supposedly. Every single apartment was small, and few of them were burned too. Doings of the bored kids again, maybe?

The room was located in the second floor.

Room was dark and covered with dust. There were nothing in this room, no furniture, not a single thing. It was empty and lifeless room, long forgotten. Shadows on the walls were only memories left of people, who once have lived here. Only light in the room came through the dusty window.

Bakura stood in front of window, back turned to light.

His figure was tall and proud. His angry eyes were half lidded, focused to darkness. But his anger seemed forced and behind it you could see his sad aura, his fairer self, a fallen angel.

Since this angel had fallen, it was no longer immortal. Now it could be hurt. It could bleed. It could weep. It could show weaknesses. It was no longer perfect, defects could be seen in it. It could hate. It was allowed to hate, allowed to feel emotions. It could drown in it's own hatred and it could die. It could be killed. But it also could be saved. If someone wanted to save the angel, that's it.

Someone didn't want to save the angel. It wanted to hurt the angel. And so angel was being hurt.

Bakura's pierced clothes were painted in bloody red. There were few drops of blood shining in his white hair too. Millennium Ring had lost it's shiny golden color, now it was more like rusty red as it hang on his chest, on his wounds. Bakura's lips were slightly parted and painted dark red with blood. His hands were soaked in it and they hung limply on his sides. Bakura's breathing was fast, almost like panting, but he was silent and stood still, not planning to move. Not a single word escaped his lips. Not single sign of pain was seen, though he was soaked in salty red liquid.

Blood was thick and warm as it pushed from his wounds and traveled down his body leaving red tracks as it went.

Hatred was slowly washed away by blood. It tripped from his fingertips and onto the floor. Bakura was becoming pure. Pure, like an angel he might once have been. Pure and fair, and unbelievably beautiful.

They always said that white was purest of the colors. But they were wrong. Now it could be seen, it really was this bloody red that was the purest. Blood of an angel was the purest. It was so pure it made other things pure too, like Bakura.

When every single drop of hatred was gone from his body, he was pure. His eyes shone with new, sad light. His aura of sadness, normally only seen while asleep, could now be clearly seen. He was beautiful. Wings of an angel appeared on his back. Wings that could fly no more. Once pure and white were the feathers, now soaked in blood. Not a single feather was fully white anymore. Somehow that just added the beauty.

In the pool of blood and hatred stood the fallen angel. Not moving, he waited.

What he waited, came:

_Bang!_

Bullet pierced through his wings. Wings turned into bloody feathers. They slowly fell to the floor. Wings were gone, and so was his changes of escaping. Now Bakura was really trapped, no way to get out, standing in blood and feathers. Betrayal and disbelief shone from his eyes.

_Bang!_

Bullet hit his heart. Unwillingly he took a step backwards. One drop of blood rolled from the corner of slightly parted lips and down his cheek.

Time stood still.

One salty tear was shed, to show the weakness of this creature, to show perfection, to show that it had fallen. The tear dried halfway down his cheek. It was gone, leaving nothing but a mere memory. It was only tear ever shed by fallen angel.

And then...

Light disappeared from Bakura's eyes and lifeless body fell to the floor.

On the bed of blood and feathers, eyes closed and heart stopped, lied the fallen angel, fairest in death.

Yami put the gun down.

**The End**

_A/N I think I killed Bakura... *Gives the gun to reader* Feel free to shoot something, or someone, if you want._


End file.
